Sky Blue Blog

Some Enchanted Evening

If you've attended Day of the Dead celebrations, FIESTA or
just about any other prominent Latino event in Indianapolis, you've seen Mariachi Sol Jalisciense. And if you've enjoyed
authentic music at a Mexican friend's wedding (or mine), you know this group. But what you might not know is that along
with being Indy's finest mariachis, they are one of the world's preeminent
examples of a cultural pillar that extends back to the beginning of the 20th
century.

Photo by Jennifer Delgadillo

Mariachi Sol Jalisciense prepare for a show at the Columbia Club.

As part of my journey to learn more about Hispanic heritage
in our Circle City, I asked Luis Correa, the band's violin player, if I could
follow the band around on a typical work night. Correa welcomed me and
explained that they'd been asked to play a private party for the Mexican
Consulate to celebrate Mexico's Independence Day. He welcomed me to join them and asked that I meet them outside the Columbia Club on Monument Circle. That way I could enter the club right along with them.

September is the busiest month for Mariachi Sol Jalisciense, as they perform gigs almost daily. "We could
be playing at a palace and then, later on, at a very simple house all in the
same day, and we do both with respect," says Alejandro Radilla,
the lead singer and guitar player.

Photo by Jennifer Delgadillo

Mariachi became wildly popular in the 1920s as the use of radio spread in Mexico.

Respect is important, especially for a band so used to
seeing inebriated revelers. "Because of the idiosyncrasies at parties, people
tend to do things that they normally wouldn't do. They become driven by their
desire to be the life of the party," says Radilla.

Correa and his brother Enrique, the guitarrón player, have been playing mariachi
music since they were children growing up in the town of Tequila, in the
Mexican state of Jalisco.

"What is more Mexican than tequila and mariachi?" asks Luis,
as if to prove he bleeds green, white, and red.

Near the town of Tequila (which, yes, is famous for the
eponymous spirit made there) is the small town of Cocula, which is said to be where traditional
mariachi music originated. Band members Francisco "Paco"
Rincón, the trumpet player, and Daniel Rivera, the vihuela player, also call Cocula their birthplace.

All of Sol Jalisciense's members
received their musical training early in life under the Jaliscan
Sun, and together they have been playing off and on since 1989. They moved
to Indianapolis in 1991 to be our state's exemplary group, while also taking time
out to tour as far as Argentina, Algeria, Japan and France. No average
mariachi band, Sol Jalisciense ranks world-class
status.

While the ballroom emcee for the elegant evening proceeded
to introduce guests and dignitaries of Indianapolis' Latino community, I
took the opportunity to conduct a brief Q&A session with the band. It went as follows:

Interestingly, I always thought that mariachis enjoyed this
song because it's about them. However, Correa informed that this is not the
case, "Most mariachis I've met really dislike the song."

After our chat and their warm-up session for their
voices and instruments, Indy's most prominent Mexican musicians escorted me
into the gala. A couple of Coronas later, they let me sing along for the song TeSolte La Rienda, where Alejandro and I hammed it up and posed
for pictures that may or may not turn up in local Spanish language publication CV Latina.

And then following just a couple songs, there it was. Someone at the bar came over to request El
Mariachi Loco.

A combination of eye-rolls and we're-used-to-this smiles later, the professionals stomped, twirled
and delivered an impeccable performance of the crowd-pleasing tune. The room
livened up as more and more margaritas were consumed, even the Anglo guests
were dancing. (Of course, I was dancing too.)

As people began to leave the party, a server came out asking
when the band was going to play. "We already played," says one of the
mariachis.

Disappointed, the older gentleman named Jesús Vanegas explained to me that he had hired them to
perform at one of his family parties a few years back."They
are the best of the best," he tells me.

Photo by Jennifer Delgadillo

The vihuela is prominent in mariachi music. While it may look like a guitar, it has just five strings and a deeper sound.

I asked him what he felt when he heard their music, being so
far away from his birthplace, Mexico. But Jesús just
laughs, "I used to be a mariachi when I was little. I played since I was 14
until I was 21. It's just life for me."

By the end of the night the band has shaken every hand in
the room. I heard at least 10 people ask them if they remembered when they'd
performed at their party and a Dominican man offered to sell them a $40 batch
of something called "Mama Juana," a
spiced rum that's supposed to be good for the voice and an aphrodisiac, (but
they say for that price it's a no-go).

I am invited to follow them to their racquetball game, but I
have them drop me off on Mass Ave to sing a little karaoke with my sister
instead.

I'll be seeing them next month for her wedding and will be
sure to not request their least favorite song. That's the least I can do for my
amigos.

Have you seen Sol Jalisciense? If
so, let's hear about it. What was the occasion and your experience.